The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1887-04-01

me to YlSlt her. 1t was in Philadelphia.
and did you go ~
''Ah, yes, and it was beautiful time.'
Then, her face falling. ''but had to come
home. It was all over in three months. -
''Ah, that was hard, sympathetically.
eyes, it was, Mr.. Rogers taking up
another jacket and beginning on new
hole. ''For they were rich, you know, and
it was quite like old times-their nice
house and all--and then to come back
here--the noise and the children, and
clearing up the rooms--it seemed worse
after that. But perhaps shouldn't have
minded if it hadn't been for-therc was
something worse than all that, continued
Clarice, working hard at the jacket with
crimson checks.
"Will you tell me about it?'' asked
John Rogers, very kindly, his honest gray
eyes softening. sit does one good some
times to tell ones troubles, and | am SO
much older than you.
Clarice looked up quite gratified at this
unexpected sympathy.
II will tell you, Mr.. Rogers. 1t was
when was in Philadelphia, that | met
Harris-IIarris Bell-and ] was-so differ
ent there, at the parties | went to with
Fannie, that he thought was pretty, and
told me SO, and said that he loved me, and
wanted me to be his wife, had pretty
white dress, you know timidly, and
gIancing blushingly down at her present
faded calico, ''and wore fowers-and-you
can scarcely understand it.
eyes, ! can understand it, said John,
noting the light in the brown eyes and the
newly-acquired color. 'Tell me the rest,
Clarice''
''And we were cngaged-and | could
scarcely believe it-but was very happy.
He was such handsome gentleman, too,
and so aristocratic, and did not mind the
boarders, or anything, when thought
about Harris. So at last he came here to see
me; and he saw mamma and the children
the house and the boarders, and can tell
you how it was, but he was different. lie
didn't tell me he was changed, but he was
restless, and it worried him, and saw he
cared. am proud, Mr.. Rogers, though
We are poor now. and broke it all up. 1t
wasn't the love had dreamed of | had
read great many novels, and | thought
life was fairy tale and love was beauti-
full always used to think, when some
10 Low I'll ba Sa1 m
vexed any more; and Harris seemed to me
all had wished for until saw the house
and the boarders frctteo him. For | had
dreamed of love that would be out of the
common, and that when | went away with
my lover | thought |, too, would be better,
Just as he wished me to be. SO told him,
Mr.. Rogers, it was all over and he said
perhaps we were not fitted to make each
other happy. And then he went away,
and the work and the noise and the board
ers frettcd me as they had never done be-
fore. For somehow, although could not
love him as much for treating me SO, the
thoughts about him and the dreams about
him were all gone-and I missed them
So"
''Poor childn' said John, tenderly.
'But it's my own fault, Mr.. Rogers.
I expected too much. There is no such
love as I have dreamed about and mother
says did very wrong to break it off. She
was very angry with me, out knew these
things would always fret him. and | could
not bear it.
''Clarice, would it help you any TO know
that |, too, have suffered as You have suf-
fered?" asked John, for two shining tears
had dropped on the boys jacket II, too,
dreamed of love, and | found woman
whom believed had given me that love;
but because her parents found in me only
plain, poor man, no longer young, she
gave me up. She gave up faith and trust
and hope, because she had not that real
love which you described.
lie stopped speaking. He had forgotten
the little girl in her calico gown, and was
gazing abstractedly ont of the window,
hard lines of regret and passionate despair
written OH his face.
Suddenly he felt little, warm, soft hand
laid gently on his, and Clarice said;
fMr. Rogers, am so sorry
He wrung the little working hand, and
then he rose and went to his room and
gave way to his new sorrow.
Clarice folded her sewing and put il
away; but it comforted her as she went
about her evening duties that Mr.. Rogers
had listened to her story, and to know that
he, too, had missed the love he dreamed
Of
Several months had passed away. John
Rogers had often found his way into the
shabby little parlor and chatted with
Clarice, Once he had found bunch OF
flowers on his bureau, ard no room in the
house was such model of order
One day as he sauntered into the parlor
towards dusk, hoping that his little friend
would come there with her basket of mend
ing and sit awhile, he heard the rustic of
feminine garments, and, looking up, saw
that his landlady stood before him. Mrs.
Dean was woman who pfided herself on
her former dignity. She wore a very long
and dusty alpaca. 1t being no longer
within her limits TO trail silk, she trailed
alpaca. Some persons are of this mold.